Capitol Punishment
by E.Joseph
Summary: Panem's rebellion is over. The rebels have won. Now they are forcing the children of the Capitol to compete in one final Hunger Games. Novalynn Asher, a girl with a deadly secret, will compete in the Games. Her mentor will be none other than the Mockingjay herself, Katniss Everdeen.
1. Chapter 1

ONE

It is the day of the final reaping. The Capitol reaping. For the final Hunger Games. The Capitol Hunger Games. It is the day of the final Reaping and my name is on one of the tiny pieces of white paper inside the clear glass globe that stands beside the Mockingjay herself. Katniss Everdeen. The big bad hero. I squint my eyes and try to decipher her facial expression but all I can come up with is stoic. Indifferent. Not like the boy beside her. Peeta looks haggard, tired and possibly quite sad. Rumour has it he didn't want these Games in the first place and now he's being forced to draw names for Sections nine, eleven and twelve. Wouldn't want to take away from the drama and assign them to random sections. No, they have to draw from the section that matches the district they came from. Plus more if there aren't remaining victors. And they say the Capitol was all about dramatics.

Specifically for the purpose of the Games they have split the Capitol into 13 sections. Twelve will have two children chosen from each. If you're from thirteen you are exempt. I fall under Section Twelve. Lucky me. The Hunger Games will proceed just like any other, except in the area of mentors. Since there are no previous Capitol victors (obviously) to coach us we will be coached by the District victors assigned to our Section. Meaning I get the Mockingjay. Again, lucky me.

"Nova?" a tiny voice sounds from beside me, "Nova what are you looking at?"

"The Mockingjay." I answer turning to look a Reja who appears to have been crying all morning. I understand her sadness but I see no point in crying. There is nothing we can do to make them stop the Games from taking place. Besides we deserve it. There, I said it, so shoot me. People say that us children don't deserve this, because we had nothing to do with the regular Games. What they don't see is that we deserve this simply for our inaction. For our laughter at the violence. I admit it I took pleasure in watching the Games, in seeing the bloodbath. And now I will pay for it. Or at least someone I know will.

"She looks angry." Rej answers, shielding her eyes from the sun with a small, pale hand.

"You think so," I mutter, "I think she looks bored."

"Bored?" Comes another voice as a strong pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind, "You need a serious lesson on reading expressions Nove."

"Kayd!" I smile turning around to kiss him. Instead he catches my chin in his hand and studies my face like it might be the last time. For all I know it might be. So I take the opportunity to do the same. I start with his lips, thin and perfectly kissable. But it's not long before my gaze is drawn up to his black flecked, chocolate eyes as usual. When we first got together Kayd and I agreed that our eyes would be the only thing about our bodies we were allowed to modify. That ideal held strong for the first few months, until we decided it would be acceptable to modify hair as well. Lastly we added tattoos to our list of acceptable body modifications. We still hold strong that faces and body shape, size and colour should never be altered surgically unless absolutely necessary.

. Kayd finally allows me to kiss him. It ends too soon, though and Kayd breaks away seemingly without provocation. That is until I see a tiny figure pulling at the hem of his shirt. It is his four-year-old half-sister Sabana, she stares at Kayd with big round eyes.

"Kaydy, what's everybody doin all lined up here?" She asks innocently.

Kayd crouches down next to her and sighs, "Sab, you've gotta go back and find momma. These line-ups are for big kids only.

"I wanna be a big kid too! Just like you and Marty, and Jezz and Nova!" Sabana shouts and stomps her foot. She is referring to Kayd's other half-siblings, Marticia and Jezzan who are twelve and thirteen.

"Trust me Sab," I murmur, crouching down next to her as well, "Nobody wants to be a big kid today."

"How come?" she pouts.

I bite my lip searching for the right words, "Because, well big kids have to do some scary things today."

"Like what?"

Kayd grabs her arm, "Just nevermind Sab, you go find Momma before you get lost now alright?"

"Fine." Sabana reluctantly hugs Kayd "I love you Kaydy! Bye Bye!" Then she skips off to find her mother.

Beside me I hear Reja choke back a sob. Just my luck I was going to have to console my boyfriend's sister and my best friend today. I hated talking feelings. And I really hated lying to people like I just did and was about to do again.

"Rej, don't worry about it okay? Everything's going to be fine." I say.

She just shakes her head, auburn curls bouncing around her, "I don't think I can do it Nove. And I don't just mean play in the Games; I know its unlikely I'll be chosen. I mean I don't think I'll be able to watch someone I know fight to the death!"

I am about to tell her that that's exactly what the Capitol made thousands of kids in the districts do every year when I am interrupted by a booming voice from the stage. It's the Section representative for twelve, they introduced him this morning but I've already forgotten his name.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the one and only Capitol Hunger Games! Across the Capitol the reapings are being conducted at this very second! In just a few moments one boy and one girl will join us on stage to become Section Tewlve's players in this extraordinary event! I am now going to have our special guests draw the names. . . but first I would like to say two things. Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds," he pauses for only a second to glance back at the Mockingjay,"be ever in your favour!"


	2. Chapter 2

As she steps towards the glass ball to pick out a name I think about what the Mockingjay did on her reaping day, volunteered for her sister, and I realize how grateful I am that I have no siblings. I am not sure whether or not I would be able to volunteer for a sibling, I will never know that kind of love. Then I think of Reja, she is as close to a sibling as I have. Would I volunteer for her? Will I, if she is picked today? I don't know.

The Mockingjay reaches into the bowl, draws out a tiny white slip of paper. The crowd collectively holds their breathe. She walks to the front of the stage where the microphone is located; in her hand the slip of paper flutters in the slight breeze. When she reaches the mic, she lifts the paper until it is eye level. The suspense is killing us all. I have both Kayd and Reja's hands gripped tightly in mine.

The Mockingjay clears her throat and finally reads the name, "Reja Castrop."

It takes me a moment to realize that Reja has just been called, that I need to let go of her hand. Reja is trying to walk towards the stage but where her fingers are still linked with mine I can feel her violently shaking. Slowly I release my grip and turn my body into Kayd's so I don't have to watch her walk to the stage. But it doesn't help. From somewhere in the crowd of adults I can hear the screams of Reja's mother.

"Please! She can't do this! She isn't healthy! Please this isn't fair!" Dani Castrop screams at the Mockingjay.

"Was it ever fair?" The Mockingjay answers her calmly and turns around to walk towards Reja who is climbing the stairs to the stage. "Now how old are you?" she asks blandly.

"Sixteen." Reja whispers, too afraid to even look at the Mockingjay. From down here I can see just how pale she is. She is sick, her mother was not lying. The doctors do not know what is wrong with her, only that she is getting progressively weaker each day. With the right treatments and proper rest and nourishment she could live many more years. With the Hunger Games she will surely die.

Kayd is stroking my thick blond hair, trying to calm me down because it is now me that is shaking violently. I can't help it the screams from Reja's mother are piercing my ears. Not only that I now can hear her father yelling as he tries to get to stage and is held back by security. Throughout the roped off area for us kids the four other Castrop children old enough to be in the draw have finally made sense of what has happened and are either crying or screaming or both. My second family, the people who have practically raised me because my alcoholic single father could not manage a child, is being torn apart. It is hell to watch. I remember watching the reapings on T.V, thinking that all the hysterics were ridiculous, now I know better. I want to start screaming myself.

The voice of the Mockingjay breaks through the screaming, this time she sounds deeply interested in what the answer may be, "Is there anyone out there who would like to volunteer to take Reja's place in the Hunger Games?"

Before I even realize what I am doing I have raised my hand, stepped towards the stage, "I do. I volunteer to compete for her." It is then that I finally see my decision was made so long ago. When I asked myself earlier if I would take her place the answer was not 'I don't know' the answer was yes. Yes, yes, yes. Before I can reach the stage someone grabs my hand and spins me around. It's Kayd.

"Nova! Are you insane? Please don't do this, it's a death sentence and you know it. Please Nove, you can't die." He pleads with my, eyes full of longing.

"I'm so sorry Kayd. I have to." I say through tears. Then my voice drops to a whisper, only for him, "Maybe I can finally show them what we've been trying to for so long."

Kayd does not move for a moment. Then, suddenly he steps forward and kisses me passionately, breaking away he takes a deep breathe and opens his mouth to speak, "Fine. Have it your way." He says softly and drops my hand. I wonder for a second what he meant by that but before I can think too long the Mockingjay is calling me up on stage. I walk slowly up the black marble staircase and come to stop beside Reja who is staring at me, her brown eyes widened in fear. Before she gets a chance to speak she is hauled off the stage by security and I watch her run into the arms of her siblings. From here I can see Dani Castrop. The relief she feels is clear from her expression. I feel a jolt of sadness at the fact that even though I regard them as important as family they do not feel the same about me. Now that I am on the stage there is no more screaming and crying. It crosses my mind that my father might be worried, but it is more likely that he is passed out somewhere in an alley.

The Mockingjay approaches me and I turn to look directly into her slate grey eyes, she is frowning at me. "What's your name, volunteer?"

"Novalynn Asher." I answer, trying to keep my voice strong.

"And how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Was that a relative of yours?"

"No."

The Mockingjay looks momentarily confused, "Feeling brave today Novalynn?"

"No." I answer again.

"No? Then why exactly did you volunteer?" She asks.

"Love." I say, "You of all people should understand that."

She appears to be unfazed by my addressing her Hunger Games, but I can see a muscle in the corner of her mouth twitch, "I see. Good luck to you Novalynn."

She turns and walks away from me, returning to her spot beside Peeta. But it is now his turn to pull a name, to decide someone's fate. Peeta doesn't take nearly as long a time to read the name as the Mockingjay. He apparently isn't into the theatrics.

Stepping up to the mic, Peeta reads a name, "Dalton Freedman."

A boy who looks around fifteen climbs to the stage, looking very shell shocked. Once again screaming and crying from parents and sibling commences. I suppose I am the only child here today with no real family.

"Hello Dalton." Peeta says as he approaches the boy, "How old are you?"

"Fourteen." Dalton answers him. So he is younger than I thought, he'll be one of the youngest there.

Peeta takes a breath, "Is there anyone who volunteers to take Dalton's place in the Hunger Games?"

"I do." A voice calls from the crowd. I can't see from my place who it is but the crowd has suddenly began to whisper amongst themselves. Clearly this is a controversial volunteer. I scan the crowd for someone making their way to the stage and finally I see a boy with long chestnut hair cutting a path through the sea of children. I am not sure how I remain on my feet because in that instant my world has stopped spinning and everything around me comes to a screeching halt. My breath starts coming in quick, panicked bursts. I clap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming and sink to my knees on the stage as Kayd walks up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

The Mockingjay is staring at me, but I could care less that she thinks me weak now. Peeta's face has paled to a snowy white. He was not expecting a volunteer, much less one that would have this affect on the other tribute.

"What is your name?" Peeta asks.

"Kayd Gregory." He answers calmly. But his eyes are locked on me, on the other side of the stage, wilted to my knees. I cannot bring myself to meet his gaze, to face the reality of what he has just done. I now understand what he meant by 'have it your way.'

"How old are you Kayd?" Peeta asks.

"Eighteen." He says.

"Can you tell the crowd and the viewers in the districts why you volunteered?"

"For the same reason she did." Kayd points across the stage. At this I finally stand and look directly at him. Kayd steps away from Peeta and begins to walk across the stage towards me. The crowd, even his large family, is so silent I can hear the snapping to the fabric of the flags high above our heads as they blow in the slight wind. When Kayd reaches me he takes my hand in his, winding his fingers through mine. And he stays this way. Neither of us say anything for a long moment. If they were looking for dramatics they will certainly have their fill in Section twelve.

"Well Ladies and Gentlemen we have certainly had quite the reaping day!" the representative has taken the mic back from Peeta who looks so pale and horrified I am worried he might pass out, "You may all return to your homes where the other reapings across the city will be broadcast in just a few moments!"

Kayd and I are ushered off the stage and into the main hall. When we reach the tiny rooms where we must stay until the train comes to take us to the arena I realize that they intend to separate us. I grip Kayd's hand even tighter when security says that we have reached his room. To my surprise however, he bends down to kiss me gently then shakes off my hand and walks into the room. I bite down on my lip and the pain somehow keeps me from calling out as they lead me down the hall to my room. I pace the intricately decorated room, lifting and touching and moving every object that I can. I have just re-arranged a display of tiny glass animal sculptures when the door opens for the first time. The security move to the side to let a bedraggled, scruffy man into the room.

My father reeks of liquor and cigarette smoke. He has on old grey sweat pants and a ripped navy shirt with unrecognizable stains near the collar. His dark blond hair is a mess of what should be curls but now appear to be just one giant knot. I cross my arms tightly and stare at him, waiting. I wish he would leave and stop wasting the already short time I may have to spend saying goodbye to people who really matter. My father has never really been present in my life, and I know for a fact he would rescue his liquor from a burning building before me. So I wonder why he is here now. What kind of goodbye could he possibly have to say?

He saunters right past me and leans against the window sill, "What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now girl?" he asks, a tiny smile plays across his face.

"What do want?" I ask, not bothering to play his stupid games.

"Now, now, don't be so cold towards to your old man Novalynn." He takes a step closer to me and I back away, "I just wanted to say a final goodbye to my dear daughter."

"Then say it." I growl at him, balling my hands into fists and digging into my palms with my nails to keep from reaching out and hitting him.

"But then again," my father starts walking and I realize I am cornered, "it might not be a final goodbye. This game is about killing people and you know all about that don't you?"

I can smell the alcohol on his breath he is so close to me, that familiar sneer on his face. The look of anger that always overcomes him when he talks about what I did. My father is referring to the death of my mother and older brother. The deaths I, two years old at the time, am apparently responsible for. My mother and brother died in a terrible house fire fifteen years ago because I screamed until my brother ran back in to rescue my favorite toy and my mother ran in after to rescue him. The story goes that a electric heater caused the fire but to this day I still believe it was my father's cigarettes that lit the fire and that he drinks and blames me to relieve his guilt.

"Maybe I'll come back trained to kill and finally be able to get rid of you." I mumble.

"What'd you say girl?" He slurs reaching out and grabbing onto my chin in the same place Kayd did earlier this morning, only the gesture is so very different.

"Don't. Touch. Me." I spit, trying to wrench my face from his iron grasp.

My father grips my jaw tighter then in one quick motion uses this grip to throw me to the ground. On the way down my shoulder hits the table with the glass animal display and it comes crashing down. Pain shoots down my arm and I back away like a crab, scuttling across the hardwood floor. This is nothing new. My father takes his anger out on me at least twice a week. Usually I am able to escape to Kayd's house before the abuse goes too far but sometimes, like right now, there is no escape. He takes two quick steps towards me raises his foot and begins to kick. He hits my stomach, hip, ribs and eventually my shoulder in the exact same place as the table.

The last kick causes me to cry out which draws the attention of the security guards. They rush in and seeing the situation drag my fuming father out of the room, mumbling apologies to me as they go. I crawl carefully back to the tipped over table pain taking over my body with each movement. Starting the Hunger Games with previous injuries is just going to make things even worse. I am sure the Mockingjay will think I am useless when she sees the bruises.

I am examining a miniscule glass dog that has had both its ears broken off in the fall from the table when the door opens again. It is Reja and her family. I take a deep breath and haul myself to my feet as they stare at me in horror. Suddenly Mrs. Castrop hurries to my side, helping me over to the couch where I can sit. All the while she is looking at me as if she is aware this small gesture in no way makes up for what I have done for her daughter. Once I am seated on the couch everything is silent for a moment. All eight of the short, tiny, dark haired Castrops are watching me, unsure of what to say. I am unsure of what I want them to say. Do I want them to thank me? No, I don't think so. What I did isn't something you can simply thank someone for. Perhaps they should yell at me, tell me how stupid I am. I suppose I could handle that.

"I'm so sorry Nova." Reja finally speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What are you sorry for?" I ask quietly, "You haven't done anything wrong."

She wipes tears from her wide, chocolate brown eyes "I don't know. I'm just sorry you have to do this when it should have been me."

"I didn't have to do this." I answer.

For a moment Reja is silent, "But you did." She finally says. Then, without a word from the rest of her family they all turn to walk out. Only, before the door can close on them Mrs. Castrop turns around and rushes back to me. She kneels in front of me, taking both my hands in hers, her mouth opening and closing as if she is desperately trying to say something to me.

Finally she just stands, kisses my forehead and mutters, "You didn't have to Nova, but you did." Then she too walks out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't know why but for some reason I am hoping for a visit from Kayd's family. Maybe if they are angry with me I can erase from my memory what just happened with Reja's family. Then, of course, I will no longer be the emotional wreck that they have made me. I have not cried yet today. Not when Reja was picked, not when I volunteered, not even when Kayd volunteered to play beside me. Although I realize that, in the case of Kayd, I did not cry because I was beyond tears. Now, however I am having to breathe deeply and blink often in order to keep back the ridiculous sob that is forming in my throat. Ridiculous because all of the sad things that have happened to me today could not break me but one simple show of love and I lose it.

Just my luck, however, I am not visited by Kayd's family. Instead the door opens and security beckons me out the door; it is time to board the train. I give my head one good shake before stepping outside so as to clear the thoughts of the Castrop family and their thank you from my mind. On the platform the cameras are waiting for us, watching our every move so that the people in the districts can analyze us in the same way we analyzed them for years.

I don't care what the people think of me when I see Kayd emerge from another door. His jaw is clenched tightly and there is a distinct frown on his face. It is clear to me that he is struggling to control his emotions as well. His head turns slightly towards me and I meet his gaze. Neither of us smile or move to be near one another. We both know that being in each others' arms would allow the walls of strength we have put up to come crashing down. In past years of the Hunger Games, playing weak has paid off for some tributes but this time I know it will not work. The people of the districts will not have any sympathy for a sad, crying spoiled brat of a capitol child. No, what they are looking for is someone who realizes that they deserve this. Someone who knows and accepts what they must do to win.

The train is decorated much like the holding room was. Everything appears rich and fanciful like I am inside some kind of castle. The floors are either a deep, mahogany hardwood or, in some places, a beautiful, red carpet. Surrounding me are tables and tables full of any kind of food I could imagine. It's not like I ever didn't have enough to eat, I could always count on the Castrops or the Gregorys to give me a meal if I was in need. It was just that I had never seen food lined up like this. Eaten not out of necessity, for fun even. Despite what the Mockingjay and Peeta and the other rebels seemed to think not all of the Capitol was up to their necks in riches. Some of us were getting by however we could. No, we weren't starving like the people in some of the districts but we absolutely weren't rolling in jewels like the people in some other districts.

Kayd is standing beside me, his hand pressed gently into the small of my back. He is regarding the food in much the same way I am. Suddenly the door opens behind me, I spin around before Kayd even registers where the sound is coming from. I suppose years of avoiding and dodging my father has trained me to react quickly. I almost laugh to myself as I realize that my father's abuse might come in handy during the games. Standing in the doorway are the two people I was least looking forward to meeting on the train. The looks on their faces suggest they might feel the same way about Kayd and I. Peeta and the Mockingjay take exactly four steps into the room, close the door quietly behind them and proceed to look at each other expectantly. It's as if neither of them know exactly what to say or do about us.

Finally, Peeta speaks, "Novalynn, Kayd, please sit down. We would like to speak with you for a moment."

I keep my eyes locked on both of them and back up slowly until the backs of my knees hit a velvet chair. There I sit down and watch as the two of them and Kayd take their seats. We form a square, I am seated in between Kayd and the Mockingjay.

"Novalynn." The Mockingjay looks at me.

"Yes, Mockingjay?" I don't realize that I have addressed her using her nickname until I see an odd look cross her face. Whatever. I can call her whatever I want, she still has to train me.

"What you did was incredibly stupid." She says. At first I think she is referring to what I just called her, then I realize she is probably talking about my volunteering for Reja. Well, I think, of course it was stupid I just volunteered to die for my best friend.

"I figured." I respond, "Volunteering to die for someone you love isn't the most common is it."

The Mockingjay frowns, "No. It isn't. Although it appears two people have done so today."

For a moment I think she might be telling us about another reaping today. Until I see her focused gaze on Kayd. Right. It was obvious the second he volunteered that he is going into the Games not to win, which he could, but to protect me.

"Yes, Capitol citizens feel emotion too. Surprising huh?" I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Nova." Kayd says my name in a tone that is all warning. I turn and glare at him. He was the one who was always talking about making the rebels realize that Capitol citizens aren't all bad.

Peeta clears his throat and all three of us turn expectantly towards him, thinking he might actually say something that isn't commom courtesy, "It looks like dinner is served." He says instead, pointing towards the doorway. There is a man dressed up in a waiter's uniform pushing a large cart filled with all types of trays and plates of food. I cannot imagine why they would think we need this much food, we haven't even touched what was laid out for us when we walked in.

We make our way to the made for ten table and sit all bunched together at one end. Once again I try to decipher the look on the Mockingjay's face. I wonder if this setting is bringing back any memories for her but once again her expression is unreadable and blank. Knowing that I will have better luck this time I turn to Peeta and try to read him. Just like I thought his face is alive with emotions. He looks afraid, reminiscent and apologetic all rolled into one.

"Hold on. What is that anyway?" I ask the waiter as he scoops a spoonful of some kind of red vegetable I have never seen before onto my plate. The waiter, however, does not respond and just continues along the table. I open my mouth to ask again, maybe he doesn't hear well, when I am interrupted by the Mockingjay.

"Theo cannot speak. He is an avox. That means he disobeyed and the Capitol cut off his tongue as a punishment." She says, emphasizing the word Capitol.

"Oh really?" I respond, feigning shock, "The whole Capitol cut off his tongue. That must have been a very large pair of scissors for us all to hold on to."

The Mockingjay scowls but does not respond. "I think what Nova means is that the idea to punish people by making them avoxs was the idea of President Snow and not the citizens themselves." Kayd calmly tells her. Still no response.

We eat the rest of the meal in silence and when my plate is cleared I stand, "I'm going to look around the train."

"You can't leave we haven't discussed anything yet." The Mockingjay says, standing beside me.

I raise my eyebrows at her, "We just spent an hour in silence Mockingjay. If you had anything that couldn't possibly wait till tomorrow I think you probably would have said it then."

She tries to speak again but I am already out the door and walking briskly down the hall. I don't know where I am going or what I am looking for but it doesn't matter. I had to get out of there. I eventually just start opening random doors until I find a room with a television in it. Sitting down on the dark leather chair I search until I find a re-cap of the reapings that is just beginning. Before anything gets started I hear a knocking at the door. Kayd is standing in the doorway, his head tilted slightly to the side out of curiosity.

"Mind if I join you?" He asks. I shake my head and watch as he sits on one side of the loveseat that matches the chair I am in. I hold out for maybe thirty seconds before I practically leap from the chair and into the spot beside him. He wraps his arm around my waist and I lean my head on his shoulder as we settle in to analyze our competition.


End file.
